on my grave
make me disappear.
this is my instrument
to work through you
to take your guts
and spell
mutual
I have lived here
and felt your fear barge into new blood
what is this war with the world?
I have loved too much
given too simply
and started a fever with all my complexionships
I have bidden erasure
and toasted the new grid of alliance with manna
I have gone shrieking into that rib of Adam
singing "Allah"
and do you know
I still haven't heard
your echo come back?
Why is that?
I am you, sitting on your couch, having this discussion
about
how Love is.
how stupid is that?
doesn't this remind you
of when we decided to come here
the first time
and be separate?
Can't I soothe you
with wine which has not been heated, scalded, scolded?
Is my corruption real
or do we put on a lid on the whole revolution
because
we must go out
side
for a cigarette?
All those noises in my chimney
sound so familiar!
what if this aching neck, is really a way to
avoid looking at you
eye level
and chasing you away
until you return
the pawn
to my chess set?
what if all this looking away
is really a sign
I have left you talking to yourself
and gotten myself
a new place to sit
out side
where all of the grapes are growing
instead of turning to dust
and gossiping
about God.
I would love you
if only I could retreat from this graveyard
and get over the fence
of my own misaligned ego
mal-aligned heart
aztec infumery
and handle
how
easy it would be to
meet you
half way.
Oh help me, stop casting spells on perfectly good water
and sleeping on cast iron grills
and holding all those old words
against new friends.
I Love You
Forgive me
Your Son,
Your Daughter,
Your Mother,
Your Father,
You,
Your Lover AND BELOVED,
I Love You
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